


Soft Sounds in the Sky

by theprydonian_archivist



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Episode: s03e11 Utopia, Episode: s03e12 The Sound of Drums, Episode: s03e13 Last of the Time Lords, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprydonian_archivist/pseuds/theprydonian_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who said that hypnotism was simply vocal only?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Sounds in the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Prydonian](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Prydonian). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [The Prydonian collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/theprydonian/profile).

From below comes a soft strain of music that binds and ties itself to the soft humming of the TARDIS. At first, fiddling with the second back-up power generator built under the console, the Doctor doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy confusing the red wire with the mauve wire to employ his senses in any other direction than the task at hand, but the moment he effectively completes the replacement of the full-force manipulator, he flops back onto the grating of the console floor and relaxes his senses.

It is definitely coming from below, the vibrations of music floating through the ship, sweeping up the spiral staircase and through the many winding areas of the TARDIS. 

Below is where the Doctor attempts to stay away from. Below is the forbidden land that keeps the ship on the peak of its tenuous equilibrium. It is where the Master stays, away from the Doctor wherever possible. He has his own kitchen, facilities, bedroom, living room… everything he could possibly want. Except his freedom. The Doctor remembers him saying those very words, once, such a long time ago. He didn’t mean it then, but he does now. 

The Doctor hovers in the console room, talking to the TARDIS in a soft voice, stroking her coral and rubbing against it like a kitten markings its territory, asserting its surroundings. He walks to the door twice before turning back to the console and adjusting another switch. And then, in – _hope_ – fear that the Master might not be the one behind the music, he heads to the staircase and walks each hierarchical step with purpose, both feet appearing on each landing before the next stair is attempted. He doesn’t want to rush things. Halfway down, he stops and sits, listening as the music is changed. It’s a pop music tune, the vocals being translated into instrumental music. It’s not the Doctor’s ideal choice for music, but it’s so different to have music in the TARDIS for once, instead of yelling and spitefulness, doors slamming while two Time Lords burn with anger, two age-old children storming to their rooms.

When he decides that he has waited long enough, the Doctor completes the staircase and walks the hallway until he finds the room closest to where the music is coming from. The door is wide open, and he leans on its frame, watching and listening. 

The Master is facing a window, large, clear opaque panes staring out into a reddened sky, like a bruised sunset, wounded and angered with the promise of vengeance rain. Like the warning before a storm. With his back completely to the Doctor, the Master holds a violin in first position, slipping swiftly to third whenever necessary and playing with a simple fluidity that makes the Doctor somewhat jealous. 

He’s heard this song a million times, and he _knows_ that there’s no violin part to it, but it seems perfect as it is, humming along to the vocal music in treble cleff. The Master moves his hands with vibrato, letting the notes hang sweetly, yet adulterated with thickness like the smoggy feeling that comes before summer rain.

There’s an abrupt stop to the music the moment the Master makes one singular mistake and the pages are turned back again to the first bar. He replaces the violin on his shoulder but does not rest his chin down, neck holding his head up high as he replaces the bow on the strings.

And then he begins to sing the lyrics, the violin seemingly playing itself as he multi-tasks, the instrument even holding itself steady without his chin there to stabilise it.

The Doctor isn’t a little jealous anymore. He’s incredibly so.

It’s not a surprise, really. Time Lords were brought up to be well-rounded in every subject, so it’s not surprising that the Master isn’t an exception to this rule – although he is to every other. Even the Doctor was musical once… or, thought he was. He thinks of his second regeneration and shudders. Thank Rassilon Rose had plastered plasticine in that obscenity of a recorder the moment he’d redrawn it out of his second wardrobe.

_And that’s the nature of the chase / you fall so far behind you end in first place / pass the torch this time we’re running / to each his own regret / there’s no harm in playing hard to get._

After a while, the Doctor stops thinking so hard about it and just relaxes into the door frame listening to the sharp sounds of violin vibrato and the soft dulcet tones of the Master’s hypnotic voice.

By the end of the song, he can barely lift his eyelids, he’s so drowsy. The violin is replaced in its casing, and the Master turns around, replacing a pair of black leather gloves on his fingers.

The hide is soft when it touches the Doctor’s face, and the Master simply smiles, letting his captor’s body fall into his arms.

He lowers him – no point in letting him fall, no matter how enjoyable that would be, he would only wake up – to the ground and watches the stilled form. The isomorphic controls shouldn’t be too hard to adjust.

‘Sleep well.’


End file.
